Hostage
by BloodRedFetish
Summary: School trips where you chaperone are always the worst fun...
1. Harry

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Written by Kiit Marlowe. Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. If they did d'you think I'd be writing fanfiction? Nah, I'd be doing a Mimi and shopping..... (Yup, this is my standard disclaimer now. I really can't be bothered to think of another one, even though it doesn't work for HP fiction. Or HP sauce. Sorry, sidetracking.)  
  
Don't bother sueing me; for one thing you have no idea who I am even, so it would be bloody pointless.  
  
And yeah for all those of you who asked (That'd be all three of you) The name: Kiit Marlowe. C'mon guys, read a little! Christopher 'Kit' Marlowe was one of Shakespeare's contempories, and a common conspiracy theory was that Kit faked his death by being stabbed in the eye in a tavern brawl so that he could escape from being a spy for the crown and focus on writing, under the name "William Shakespeare". And for all the cretins who are going "Oh, yeah! He was played by Rupert Everett in 'Shakespeare in Love'." I have two things to say to you: a) Elizabethian England was NEVER like that. b) Any film with Gywneth Paltrow in it where she doesn't die is not worth the cinema ticket price. Se7en proves that she is a far better corpse than actress. Headinabox Headinabox Headinabox, Yeah! (Except 'The Talented Mr Ripley', but there's always an exception to the rule, and don't tell me you weren't screaming "Go on Matt, kill her!!!" at the screen - I know I was. It may have got me chucked out of the theatre, but... *Shrugs* Nevermind, eh?)  
  
Well, the rant over, I don't really have any idea how this one'll turn out. It's my first ever Harry Potter fic, (awww, virgin) even though I write excessive Tatio crap/fluff. It will be a yaoi, or slash, most likely so don't read if ya get squeemish or anything like that. Though I haven't actually had any feedback on any of my stories, let alone a flame, and I do feel like I've failed somewhat. C'MON, GIVE ME SOMETHING TO WORK WITH HERE!!!! I'm in a weird happy mood, so there should be very little angst, and hopefully pure fluff. Yeah, I'm such a serious writer.... *grins like cheshire cat*  
  
Whoa, that was long..... * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Potions. What a start to the day. Well, no, actually, the day started with Ron smacking me over the head with his alarm clock. Hermione had given him it for his birthday a couple of weeks before and, what with the complex 'muggle technology', Ron hadn't mastered the whole 'flick-the-switch-to- shut-off-the-noise' aspect. Consequently, when it blasted out the Wallace and Gromit theme tune at half six in the morning and wouldn't stop for love nor money, not to mention prodding with a wand, Ron did the most rational thing he could think of: Lobbed it at my head.  
  
Funnily enough, I had a killer headache by breakfast, which wasn't helped by the twins' angrily demanding to know why Quiddich practice had been cancelled for the week. Nothing to do with me, and to be totally honest, I couldn't have cared less at that precise moment. They let off some squibs to vent their anger, and were pounced on by a strangely less pernickety Percy than we're used to. Oliver Wood watched on in amusement as Percy confiscated the fireworks. It's sooooo weird having those two as teachers. Not that Olli even remotely resembled one, having taken on Madam Hooch's job when she was stick down with a particularly nasty flu strain. Good thing it was during Quiddich off season. Hermione and Ron just sat there making gooey eyes at each other and not speaking. I think I prefered it when they were continually sniping at each other: at least then I didn't feel like I was imposing constantly. Three's a crowd and all that jazz. It wasn't like I minded them being together; hell, I actually tried to set them up for a year before they caved and they are really happy. It's just that now they're coupled off they insist on finding me a girlfriend. It goes someting along the lines of: "How about Cho?" No, been there, done that, hated the stuck up cow. "Lavender? Parveti?" Squeeling girlie girls who cannot hold a conversation that doesn't revolve around fashion tips. And yes, I know that contacts would bring out the emerald of my eyes, and yes, I know my glasses are soooooooo last season and yes, I know that I haven't had a hair cut in the last three years. "Ginny?" Is waaaaaaay over me, thanks awfully. Sweet kid, joined at the hip to Colin. A cutie, but she's like my little sister. "Pansy?" No. No. NO. Voldie will wear pink tights and a tutu while dancing like the kids in Fame before I date a Slytherin. And all I outwardly say is "Hmmm, not really my type." To all of them. Everytime. I'm such a wuss.  
  
So yeah, happy start to the day made worse by being paired with Malfoy for the making of God alone knows what hideous potion it is today. All I could tell you is that it's a gorgeous mud and bogey colour combination, with delicate flecks of cheese-like dead skin scrapings to compliment and the delicous aroma of moth dust and rotting snail meat. I don't know what it does, but if Snape makes me drink it, I have a sneaking suspicion that it'll work as a poison.  
  
I'll give it to Malfoy. I'm not going near the damn stuff. And if he happens to die, hey, added bonus. Christmas come early.  
  
That decided, I settled back to watch him cutting up the Gacth roots into perfectly even strips. He was completely focused on the task at hand, absentmindedly pushing soft silver hair out of the intense gray eyes that shone with concentration. Dead to the outside world.  
  
"Are you just going to stare at me all day Potter or are you actually going to, God forbid, lower yourself to the level of us mere mortals and help?" Malfoy drawled, not even remotely looking away from his roots.  
  
Okay, so maybe he was slightly more aware of his surroundings than I'd first suspected. I was saved having to come up with a suitably intelligent comeback, which probably would have metamorphosed into the usual "Shut up, Malfoy", by the arrival of Ron's Dad. Snape did not look amused; nor did Ron, who hastily shoved Hermione off his lap and started on the potion. Mr Weasley meanwhile looked delighted to be there.  
  
"Hallo everyone!" he started, beaming around at the class. I could see everyone desperately fighting the urge to sing song back "Hallo Mr Weasley." "For those of you who don't know me I'm-"  
  
"Ron's Dad!" Lavender called.  
  
Mr Weasley smiled. "I am that, unfortunately." Sniggers from the Slytherin's who were so dim that they didn't get that he was joking and actually thought Mr Weasley hated his son. "But I'm also-"  
  
"'An interfering muggle lover who should have his wand snapped in half for being a disgrace to the wizarding world'. Sir." Malfoy's clear voice cut through the room, droning in a bored monotone the phrase that had obviously been drilled into him. There was a shocked silence.  
  
Then I punched him, and all hell let loose. 


	2. Draco

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Bollocks.  
  
I have really done it this time. I'm sitting in Dumbledore's office, blood still dripping from my nose (Though not as excessively as Potter's, who is sitting next to me), while being informed on the punishments that could be coming my way as a result of brawling. I have the added problem of having been 'Insubordinately rude to a member of the Ministry of Magic'. However, Potter hit me first, so he's just as bad in their eyes.  
  
Ha.  
  
They've gone into a huddle and are discussing ways to control our 'wayward tendencies'. I have excellent hearing. Father often says that I should have been born to a criminal family who could have made use of my pickpocket tendencies. I just have a talent for slight of hand I guess. Then again, he continually wishes he hadn't got such a weak, sickly heir who, and I quote, "Spends too much time poncing about writing poetry and not enough time fostering contacts for your future with the dark Lord." Cracks me up sometimes.  
  
Ha. Ha.  
  
I can see it in their eyes. They've decided.  
  
"Mister Potter, Mister Malfoy. As you didn't hear Mr Weasley's speech in full, I will de-mystify you both of it's contents." Snape smiled, a nasty leer that can only loosely be termed as a smile. The same facial movement he uses when trying to shove his tongue down my throat. "Mr Weasley was asking for kind volunteers to take some of the second years into the non- magical world for a trip in the hopes of getting more interested in Muggle Studies-"  
  
I snorted in contempt. I just couldn't help it. Muggle Studies was the lamest class that there ever could possibly be. They looked at me severely. "Blood restricting breathing." I said. Potter snorted at this. "See? Even the Boy Who Lived can't breathe through blood."  
  
McGonagall gave me a death glare and Snape eyed me thoughtfully. Oh shit. Another round of sleeping in the owlry coming right up. "And we naturally assumed that the two of you would enjoy leading a group yourselves for a weekend."  
  
"You have got to be kidding me." Potter broke the silence. His face was plastered with an expression of horror. It would have been amusing, if I hadn't had that exact same look stamped on my own features. "Two days with a bunch of kids and...him."  
  
"Three days. And no wands." Dumbledore added cheerfully. "All muggle ways of life."  
  
No wands. No. Wands. Wand, none. Nada, zilch. Nil pon. My mind had gone into meltdown mode. I had never not had my wand to hand. Never. Shit no. No. No. No!  
  
"No!" Was all I intelligently articulated.  
  
"Is there a problem, Mister Malfoy? Because I suggest that you go up and pack now: either for this trip, or for your return home. And I can't see your Father being too pleased that you've been expelled because of a fight you lost..." McGonagall smiled at me with unmasked gleeful malice. Bitch.  
  
Do. Not. Rise. To. Bait.  
  
"He didn't exactly lose." I stared open mouthed at Potter, as did McGonagall and the rest, although only for a split second and then I recovered the smirk. The others didn't however. "Didn't win either, so don't look so smug."  
  
Ha. 


	3. Harry

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I dislike buses at the best of times. When surrounded by hordes of screaming children on a minibus stuck in the middle of a mass traffic jam at midnight on the way to London I can safely say that I hate buses. Our 'group', all eleven squealing brats, had set up camp in the back seats and were excitedly swapping playing cards that, joy of joy, didn't explode! Or taking strange still photographs with a polaroid camera, and showing not the sightest sign of drowsiness. This was going to be a long three days.  
  
Malfoy idly watched them from the corner of his eyes, slouched right down next to me on the front seat, knowing with a smug certainty that one glare from him could shut up any of them. Me, meanwhile, they had accepted as a subsitute elder brother who could tell them stories, laugh with them and ultimately be wound up good naturedly by them. Fun. All except one little girl, Lola Brecken, who was actually trying to come on to me. With all the seductiveness of a chubby twelve year old. Needless to say, Malfoy found this hysterical.  
  
Lola snuggled up to me and seemed to go to sleep. I cringed away slightly, moving her to an unoccupied seat. She pouted and went to join her giggling classmates.  
  
"Jeez Potter, I can see why you never keep girlfriends."  
  
"Yeah, shut up Malfoy. Like you know anything."  
  
He smiled at me, that lazy, slow smile of his. "I just know the lovely Cho dumped you, Mud Blood left you for Weasel, but you do look like you're going to get laid this weekend if Pork Chops there has any say in the matter."  
  
"You're sick. She's a kid. They don't have any clue at that age." A shadow flitted across Malfoy's face. Probably just the bridge we went under or a trick of the light. I continued. "Anyhow, that's rich coming from someone who has 'Property of Pansy Parkinson'tattooed across his forehead."  
  
"Whatever." But still, it threw him. The first and probably last time I have ever unsettled him. He shuddered almost imperceptibly, repulsed.  
  
I would have liked to push the line of thinking, but then we arrived at the hostel and started the tedious process of hustling eleven hyper children to their dorms.  
  
"Take the girls Potter. You might pull enough that their combined ages make them legal." He grinned maliciously.  
  
"Take the boys Malfoy." I minicked his tone. "Whatever floats your boat." Anger flashed in pale eyes.  
  
Potter one, Malfoy nil. I rock.  
  
As Malfoy stormed away I counted off the girls: Sal, little kid, big glasses, Hermione lookalikee. Check Malisha, fashion victim, pink hair. Check. Tish and Jordan, inseparable best friends. Check. Check. That makes four. I should have five. Four, need five. Damn, no Lola.  
  
This was going to end up with my humiliation. "Malfoy?" I called. Reluctantly admittedly, but I still had to ask him. "I'm missing a kid. Have you seen Lola?"  
  
Silky laugh right in my ear. I jumped all the same. "Lost one already? She's in here. Flirting with Eric. She seems to have 'a clue' especially at this age."  
  
Potter one, Malfoy one. I rock decidedly less.  
  
I let it drop.  
  
It took a while to get them all settled and in bed so by the time we headed to reception to collect our key I was exhaused.  
  
I let Malfoy handle the formalities. As much as a hate to admit it, he's far better at politeness. The receptionist was young, fake blonde and pretty. Malfoy turned on the family charm and when this happens there's about as much anyone can do to resist him as to stop a runaway train from sailing off a cliff. Both are dangerous and hazardous your health. "We're here to collect our room key. We're the chaperones for a school trip. Under the name of Weasley." Long eyelashes batted in the girls direction, and though flattered and clearly attracted, she looked slightly bemused.  
  
"Room thirteen. Last room avaliable. Very...secluded. Hope you have a good night, sirs." Handing over the key, she gave us both a speculative look.  
  
"What's with her?" Malfoy grumbled. "The kind of female that eats out of the palm of my hand normally. You're bleeding over onto my pulling skills-" He opened the door. "Shit."  
  
I followed his dismayed gaze. A small, clean little hotel room: nice, homely and most importantly with a double bed. Only a double bed.  
  
"Shit." I echoed. "She said it was the last room, didn't she?"  
  
Malfoy had recovered completely. "Oh, get over yourself Potter. It's only for three nights. I personally am so tired I couldn't care less where I sleep so long as it's warm, dry and has a soft mattress." And with that he tugged off his shoes, closely followed by jeans and shirt. I watched him in silence. "I'm not sleeping in my clothes. That's just plain dirty. And unless you're planning on taking the floor, neither are you." I copied, sliding under the covers as far as humanly possible away from him.  
  
"Hey, at least we know why the girl was looking at us funny." I told him.  
  
"Hmmm?" Malfoy asked drowsily.  
  
"She thought we were together." He snorted at the very idea. 


	4. Draco

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I was up and ready before Potter even woke. Putting the finishing touches to my outfit for the day. I guess I'm a bit of a drama queen really, but this was me, acting as a muggle. Black of course. Completely black clothes. Black jeans, close around the hips but with a slight flare at bottom. Black t-shirt almost skin tight. Black boots. (Black sunglasses were overkill, so I left them on the sink.) Blonde hair didn't really go with the look, but nevermind.  
  
"Shit, you look like Brian Molko." Potter was up now, standing bleary eyed in the bathroom doorway. He grinned, naturally assuming I knew nothing of muggle music.  
  
"I resent being called a Nancy boy." I told him, not missing a beat.  
  
He grinned warmly. "You do realise you're putting on eyeliner, don'tcha?"  
  
Idiot. "I usually wear eyeliner." I informed him. "It's just pointless at school because people like Pansy..." I trailed off.  
  
"'Like Pansy' what?" Emerald eyes gazed in fascination as I continued with my makeup.  
  
"Nothing." Thank every star in the sky that I didn't say Snape.  
  
"I can't believe you wear make-up." Potter added, completely entralled. "It's just so...."  
  
"Against your preconceptions?" Hes had the grace to blush at least. "I know, must be quite a shock to find your nemisis isn't exactly as terrifying as you made him out to be."  
  
"You look really different in muggle clothes." He told me, heading toward the bathroom. "More human."  
  
No shit. I like muggle clothes, when they're well made and fit properly. I don't like colour all that much and it's a relief to be out of the Malfoy dress robes. Ugh, cherry embroidery and lilac flowers.  
  
Hideous.  
  
Potter took a quick shower, dressed and shrugged into his sweatshirt as we left. The kids were all ready and champing on the bit to leave.  
  
"Harry!!! Can we go now!!!" One of the little girls called. He nodded.  
  
"So what have we got on our thrilling itinerary today?" I asked, sliding into the seat next to him as we clambered onto a traditional red London bus. I hate public transport, and muggle public transport is sheer hell.  
  
Potter pushed his glasses onto his nose properly and stared at the sheet of paper outlining our movements. "Well, today is as amazing as tomorrow and the day after. Breakfast at MacDonalds. It's a fast food chain." I knew. I nodded. "On to a bank-"  
  
"Ooh, the excitement. How will we cope?" I shoved my shoulder bag under the seat.  
  
"Then a clothes shop, the supermarket and then the cinema. Fu-un." The green eyes rolled. "Like I've never done any of that before."  
  
I smiled slightly. "I've never been to the cinema before. I'd kinda like to see a 2D film thingy. Or any film."  
  
"You've never been to the cinema? I thought..."  
  
"The trip in the third year? Father didn't want me to go. Apparently it's the same as television: Drains your mind. So I got to stay at the school and help Snape." And wasn't that an educational experience.  
  
"I've only been a couple of times." Potter added hesitantly. "The Dursleys didn't like me going out much."  
  
We got out at Trafalgar Square. The kids chased a few pigeons and we ambled over to the resturant. Junk food works very well early mornings. Then, with all the little kiddiewinks on an amazing sugar high, we walked next door to the bank.  
  
"Now remember," I warned them, "Do not ask where their dragon vaults are, and for the fourth time Kedre, muggle money is not edible." I sighed, turned to Potter and added in an undertone, "Neither is Wizarding money, so I have no idea where he got that idea from." Potter snickered lightly  
  
We were okay until approximately twenty seconds after walking through the doorway.  
  
Then the big guys dressed all in black sporting balaclavas stormed the place and we were knee deep in seven different kinds of trouble.  
  
Oh shit. 


	5. Harry

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"And this is what's known as a bank robbery." Malfoy told the children without missing a beat or batting one of his long eyelashes. "You lot'll have to be really quiet, because those metal wands; known as 'Guns'; can actually kill you."  
  
I myself was shaking like crazy. The kids had realised that we were in trouble and that they could get hurt.  
  
"But they should be out of here very shortly-" The alarms went off and the metal door guards came crashing down. "On the other hand we may well become what muggles call 'Hostages' and this is not a good situation." He looked at me, eyes the only clue that he was also terrified.  
  
"No one move! Now, everyone calmly get to the floor." We did so, instantly, the kids whimpering slightly in fear. There was no one else there, customer wise, and the staff were quaking behind the desks. Big Guy turned to one of his companions and whispered something in a low undertone that I couldn't quite catch. Malfoy gave a soft groan.  
  
"What?" I asked him as quietly as I could.  
  
"Bloody typical. They have no idea what they're going to do! We're screwed." He murmured back. He cocked his head, listening, as Big Guy carried on. "We need to get the little ones out of here." I nodded. "In fact, we need to-" Something flashed in those grey eyes and he smiled. "Be ready." Was all he said before jumping to his feet.  
  
"Malfoy!" I hissed.  
  
"Ummm, excuse me?" He called hesitantly to the would-be bankrobbers. The lashes were down and every inch of him looked submissive; a kittenish pout would have completed the effect. "Could I offer a..a suggestion?" One of the guys grunted at him and he took it as permission. With a deep breath he continued. "You only need one hostage to get out of here, right? If you plan on moving out with all of us it'll take forever."  
  
"And your point is?" Asked another guy who resembled a bean pole more than anything. Skinny Man regarded him with abject suspicion, looking to Big Guy and Silent One for conformation. Silent One merely nodded for Malfoy to continue.  
  
"Uh," innocent little expression here, looking utterly adorable and worryingly sweet. "I..I was going to suggest myself."  
  
Quick conference within the group, Skinny Man being most vocal. The kids looked at me in shock, and I guess my expression must have mirrored theirs. What the hell was going on here?  
  
"Why?" asked Big Guy. Yeah, kudos to the BankRobbers. Just the question I wanted to know the answer to.  
  
Big grey eyes widened, especially with the gun trained on him. "I...I'm meant t-to be looking after these kids and I really don't want them to get hurt but I know how important getting out of here must be for you and so I just wanted to help and get it over for them." He babbled, casting a quick look of reassurance at me. The bastard wasn't scared at all, I realised with shock and more than a hint of admiration. It was all part of the act. Amazing. Thought I'd never live to see the day when Malfoy put himself in danger for the sake of others. Wait a second...put himself in danger?! Oh crap. I had to get him out of this.  
  
BankRobber huddle again. Skinny Man, obviously the cynic of the group, did not look happy. "Okay, we let the kids go." Big Guy said grudgingly. Malfoy looked pleased. "Now, sit and wait til we can speak to the police."  
  
"Malfoy! You idiot, I can't just leave you here!" I whispered furiously.  
  
He fixed me with a determined stare. "Yes you can. And you will. Get the kids out of here, get word to Dumbledore and then do the rescue mission, okay?" He put his hand over my mouth to silence any objections. "I can handle myself, and they won't kill me. They need me. Mathue-" The boy nodded, fear written over his features. "If by any chance you get split up from Potter here, go to a phone and call 01126 882388. Got that? It's a direct line to Mr Weasley. He'll find you. I know you can remember it."  
  
I moved his hand from my mouth and watched him as he told Mathue. The boy shrank back to his friends. "You're sure?" I asked, seeing him shiver slightly.  
  
"Yeah. I'm sure. Scared as hell, but sure."  
  
I squeezed his hand in reassurance. "Thanks Draco." 


End file.
